


Can't Let the Nightmare Win

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: The Other Regan [17]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3998584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regan had to leave someone behind in the fade.  Now, she has to live with the decision.<br/>Takes place after the events at Adamant, with some in-game dialog included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Let the Nightmare Win

She shot out of her bed with a gasp, hair plastered to her forehead from sweat. Eyes wide, casting around the dark room, she searched for anything familiar. She had to get out, had to find something calming. The nightmare had left her shaken; the cold stone of her chambers giving no solace. She could go see Cullen; no, it was late. He was probably sleeping. She shouldn’t disturb him. She had to get to the stables; she’d find comfort there. Not giving a thought to grabbing her cloak, or even boots, she sprinted down the stairs wearing only the thin linen shirt and trousers she slept in, through the doors and outside, idly thankful she’d finally remembered to oil the hinges. Once she reached the stables, she practically dove into Angel’s stall, running her hands along her coarse hair. 

He sat up quicker than he’d realized, shaking the momentary dizziness from his head. It had actually been a while since this had happened; of course, that could be because she’d been away so often lately. He never seemed to wake up like this when she wasn’t at Skyhold. But that knot in his gut was familiar; she was awake … and likely at the stables … without her cloak, again. He threw on a tunic over the linen trousers he slept in and pulled on his boots before grabbing an overlarge cloak and making his way down the ladder. Cullen smiled to himself as he made his way down the stone stairs near his door; he was sure she’d appreciate the cloak – he’d had it made just for such occasions. 

She wrapped her arms around Cullen’s horse’s neck and buried her face against her. The nightmare had seemed so real – it was like she was there all over again. She could see that giant spider-thing looming … Stroud and Hawke looking at her, watching … waiting for her to make a choice … a choice she couldn’t make. She saw that momentary flash of fear in Stroud’s eye before resolve took over and he stormed toward the creature as Hawke grabbed her arm, making the decision for her. She could feel the tears forming, soaking the horse’s mane and her cheeks. It was nice to feel … something solid; something to remind her that this wasn’t the fade. 

He heard her before he saw her; whimpering sobs on the breeze. That wasn’t normal. Usually, he would find her in the stables, brushing or feeding or just … talking to the mounts. But he had never heard her actually cry – not here. She’d told him once that being in the stables calmed her … helped her relax. This was anything but relaxed. He gripped the cloak a little tighter as he made his way into the stables. “Regan?” He kept his voice slightly above a whisper; he didn’t want to risk startling the animals, or Master Dennet. 

She didn’t turn … didn’t want him seeing her cry, again. It had been bad enough that he’d seen the tears following the fiasco with the Chargers. He didn’t need to see her tear streaked face again. Maybe if she didn’t say anything, he’d go away? Did she really want him to go away? He had been at Adamant; he knew what had happened there, what the end result was … who had returned from the fade after she’d accidentally sent them there. He knew, and yet he still looked for her. Why? 

He didn’t really need her to answer. The sniffling told him she was somewhere inside, and he could hear Angel snorting while the others were mostly silent. That was odd; typically she went for her favored mounts, not his. Not that he minded. Angel seemed to take to her almost as much as she had to him. And if spending time with his horse helped her, so be it. He threw the massive cloak over his shoulders, quietly opened the stall door and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here, my lo … Regan. Come here?” He gently pried her grip from Angel’s neck and turned her to face him, wrapping the remainder of the fabric around them both. 

She gripped at his tunic, keeping her face hidden. She didn’t want him to see … couldn’t let him see her like this … not again. She felt his arms … and something else … wrap around her and snuggled closer. Maybe she was being stupid. Maybe … just maybe … he could help. Should she talk to him? Would he think her weak for not being able to decide? Would he hate her … did he hate her … for not bringing everyone back from the fade? “Cu … Cullen?” 

He maneuvered so he was holding the cloak closed with one hand and managed to stroke his now free hand up and down over her spine. “I’m here, my … I’m here. He felt her grip on his shirt loosen, hands dropping, wrapping around him, looping under his arms so her fingers could clutch at his shoulders. It was an awkward sort of hug, but he didn’t mind. He kissed her forehead, just held her against him, swaying slightly – almost as if he was rocking a child. He shifted, feet moving to a slightly more comfortable stance; or he was, until his foot came down on something soft and she yelped, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth. 

The pain was instant. The moment his boot came down on her foot, she realized she’d made a terrible mistake, forgetting her boots. She bit her lip and hoped she hadn’t woken anyone, but Maker, that hurt! She knew he hadn’t done so on purpose. Why would anyone come out to the stables without shoes on, after all? Regan dug her teeth into her bottom lip, hard, and whimpered, eyes squeezing shut. Then, the floor was swept out from under her. Or, perhaps more appropriately, she was swept off the floor and practically cuddled against an apologetic Cullen. 

What had he just stepped on? Was that her foot? Why was she in the stables barefoot? Panicked, he did the first thing he could think of – simply swept her off her feet and held her against him, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over. He hadn’t stepped down too hard, had he? He hadn’t broken her foot, right? Oh, Maker, Cassandra would have his hide if he broke the bloody Inquisitor; Leliana and Josephine probably would too. Cullen wasn’t really certain which one would be worse. 

Regan buried her face in his chest, gripping one shoulder as she breathed heavily through her nose. She remained silent, more or less just panting without actually doing so, trying to collect herself now that the initial pain … and shock … had passed. He hadn’t managed to put his entire weight on her foot; her yelp had stopped him short. “I … it’s … it’s Ok, Cullen,” she finally managed to squeak out through gritted teeth. “Totally … totally my … fault; should have … been wearing shoes.” She thunked her head against his chin before nuzzling against his throat. 

“I should have been more aware of my feet,” he sighed, wishing he’d had a better, less painful reason for clutching her to him. “Are you alright?” He wasn’t sure if he meant her foot or the crying before … or maybe both. “And now that you mention it, why are you out here without your shoes?” Now, where could he take her? He needed to take a look at her foot, make sure it wasn’t badly damaged. Taking her to her chambers would no doubt lead to awkward questions; there was always at least one person skulking about the main hall. “Let’s go take a look at that foot.” He sighed inwardly, hoping none of the guards were making the rounds near his office. It was closer, at least. “And while we take care of that, you can tell me what’s got you up so late this time … if … if you feel up to talking.” 

She nodded against him, resigned to her oh so horrible fate. It was strange; simply being near him made everything seem … not quite as bad. Oh, she was still haunted whenever she thought of that stupid dream, but it wasn’t as scary … or something. She couldn’t really explain it – not even to herself. Maybe talking about it would help, especially with him. As long as he didn’t decide he hated her for what happened. But he wouldn’t do that, would he? “I … I think I do,” she murmured, all of a sudden wondering just where he’d gotten such a large cloak. It just occurred to her that ever since his arrival in the stables, the two of them had been practically wrapped up together in one … big cloak. 

He allowed himself a small smile as he carried her up the stairs. It was … more difficult than the last time he’d carried her like this. Then, she’d just been dead weight and his fear for her safety pushed him on. Now, though he was concerned, it wasn’t nearly the life-or-death situation of before. Plus, she kept squirming - trying to look where they were going, shifting to avoid hitting her head or foot on the stone when her moving about threw him off balance. And the cloak kept getting tangled under his feet; maybe he’d had it made too large? “This was easier last time,” he teased. 

“Just means you’ve let yourself get out of practice. You should probably do something about that.” She leaned in, kissed along his jaw as he finally made it to his door. Grinning at the disgruntled huff that came from somewhere above her head, she moved to slip out of his arms … make it easier to get the door open. She could hobble to his chair easy enough.

But Cullen was having none of that. He clutched her to him, managing to hold her against him with one arm while the other fiddled with the door enough to open it. Once inside, he kicked the door shut and deposited her carefully in his chair. He dropped to his knees in front of her and pulled the injured foot up into the light, looking it over carefully. “Why in the Maker’s name were you out there without some sort of shoe?” He ran fingers along the skin checking for any obviously broken bones and found nothing. There was barely even a bruise at that point. 

She shrugged faintly, watching his movements with a faint smile. “I … guess I was too … distracted.” She managed to only slightly wince when he hit a particularly sore part of her foot, but failed miserably at holding still when the tips of his fingers traced along the underside. She muffled the laughing shriek but almost pulled her foot away at the tickling sensation. 

“Distracted by …?” He hadn’t realized she was ticklish and couldn’t stop from teasing his fingers along the arch of her foot again and again, until she finally begged him to stop. Watching her chest rise and fall as she tried to catch her breath, he grinned. At least she wasn’t crying any longer. 

It took her a moment to respond; trying to catch her breath from fighting laughter took all of her concentration. When she could finally speak, she sighed and sat up a little straighter. “I … I kept seeing … what happened in the fade. The … Nightmare … Hawke … Stroud …. I … they wanted me to … to choose who … who stayed behind to fight that … thing.” She fought to keep the tears at bay, not wanting to break down yet again. “How could I … anyone … make that choice? I couldn’t. I just … I froze ….” 

It didn’t surprise him that she was still thinking of what had happened at Adamant; it was still on his mind as well. He hadn’t been one of those sucked into the fade with her. A small part of him was upset at that fact; he hated that he couldn’t help her, couldn’t protect her so often. All he could do was wait … and pray she came back alive, knowing the chance of her luck running out was always there. And when she and the others had reappeared, minus one Grey Warden, he hadn’t allowed himself to show how relieved he was, to run up and grab her, hug her to him and tell her how glad he was that she made it back. He had forced himself to remain … professional and another small part of him hated that. 

He released his hold on her foot and awkwardly scooted closer, nudging her legs apart as he did. Silent, not knowing what to say, he simply wrapped his arms around her and held her, one hand gently stroking her hair. He wanted to tell her it was alright, that no one blamed her for the situation she’d been put in. But he knew there were no words that would help; it was another one of those decisions … like with the Chargers. No one should have to make those kinds of decisions, but sometimes … they had to be made. “I know it doesn’t help to hear, but … I … would have … made the same choice.” 

“But I didn’t choose!” She leaned down so her forehead met the top of his head, burying her eyes in his hair. “I couldn’t. I … I don’t know who finally … who made the decision. I just ….” She whimpered, paused to collect her thoughts and stop the tears again. She would not cry in his hair; he spent way too much effort on getting it just so. “I remember Hawke practically dragging me … until Bull came to help her. Solas and Cole were already running toward the way out. Stroud … Stroud ran for the demon … fighting to … to give us a chance to ….” She clutched at his shirt, fighting the urge to just sob. “Andraste’s balls, it should have been me. I should have been the one to stay behind … fight that … thing. I could have … could have found a way back, opened a way back … somehow. This stupid mark got us there, it … it could have gotten me back. We didn’t have to lose Stroud!” 

Cullen frowned, completely at a loss for words. She thought she should have stayed behind … to fight a giant spider-like demon monster thing? As good as she was in combat, he could see no way she would have survived that, alone. And if she had been lost to the fade, Corypheus would have won; there would be no one left to close the rifts … to save Thedas. He would have lost her. As selfish as that thought was, it echoed the loudest in his mind. It wasn’t fair that so much was being dumped on her shoulders. He continued to simply hold her, running a hand along her spine, the fingers of the other sifting through her hair.  


“I … I don’t know if I … I’m the right person for all this, Cullen. I don’t know if I can ….” She straightened, wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. Why had she said that? He didn’t need her doubts; he had his own struggles. She didn’t need to burden him with hers too. She conveniently ignored the fact that she all but demanded to help take on his personal burdens with his addiction. It was a totally different situation … totally. 

“You are,” he whispered, reaching up to rest a hand against her cheek. “You can.” He smiled, trying to look and sound as confident as possible. He had faith in her, much like she had faith in him. If she could help him cope with his lyrium withdrawals, he would help her through her doubts. He could do no less for the woman he had grown to love. Now, if only he could tell her that. “Your advisors always stand ready to help you; you know that. I always stand ready. I will be there for you, no matter what, Regan. If you ever feel the slightest doubt, the slightest need, please … come find me.” 

She nodded faintly, trying to hide a yawn. All the crying had finally tired her out, it seemed. “Thank you, Cullen,” she murmured, wondering if she had the strength to make it back to her chambers. It seemed like such a long walk all of a sudden. “I … I should try to make it back to my room and get some sleep. Varric, Solas, Cole and I are supposed to ride out in the morning.” She didn’t want to leave, if she were honest with herself; she wasn’t sure the nightmares wouldn’t come back. She hated the idea of letting that demon win, and keeping her awake and fearful was a win for the demon, in her opinion. But being alone right then … she knew those thoughts would come flooding back. 

“Stay here tonight.” Cullen blinked with surprise as the invitation just sort of … came out. Sure, he’d been thinking it. But he hadn’t actually meant for it to come out. He didn’t regret it, though; not once he thought about it. When she asked him to repeat his words, he did, meaning every one of them. “Please, stay here tonight.” He stood, pulled her gently from the chair and guided her to the ladder. “Take the bed. I’ll … sleep on the floor, or the chair, at worst. Perhaps a change of scenery is all you’ll need to get a good night’s rest?” 

She stopped at the base of the ladder, turned and stared at him. He was … offering her his bed? Hadn’t he all but bolted from her bed the one night she’d woken up to find him in there? Then again, that had been different – he hadn’t expected her to be there; he knew she’d be there this time. Also, that first time had been when they both had worn much less to bed. And he was offering to sleep anywhere but the bed. “I … I don’t know ….” 

He smiled shyly, nudged her toward the ladder again, watching as she slowly started climbing her way up. “Stay, Regan. After everything that’s happened, you shouldn’t be alone tonight.” 

She didn’t try to argue, knowing that if the nightmare came back, it would be nice to have someone nearby. That was one of the reasons she’d run to the stables; it was safe, familiar … something she trusted to be real. She almost hated to admit it, but she was starting to think of Cullen the same way. “I’ll stay,” she replied after they both managed to scale the ladder. “But only if you stay with me. I will not have you sleeping on the floor in your own quarters.” She held up a tired hand to stem his protests. “Cullen, we’re both dressed … we’re both tired – don’t deny it; your eyes are as heavy as mine.” She smiled faintly as she watched the argument die on his lips. “I just … I think I’d sleep better … tonight … if I knew someone was here ….” She reached out for his hand, guiding him to the bed. “Protecting me.” 

That did it; he caved. Honestly, he knew he would before she’d even finished her explanation, but the moment she said she wanted someone protecting her, he couldn’t deny it. With a nervous smile, he nodded, waiting for her to climb in and lay down. “Alright,” he replied, pulling the blanket up over her. “If it will make you feel better.” He couldn’t deny the elation he felt when she nodded, but there was also a bundle of nerves. It had been ages since he’d voluntarily climbed into bed with a woman, for any reason. And he could still remember the last time they had, unintentionally, shared a bed. But he had promised to be there for her, so he slid under the covers as well, lying on his back as she draped an arm over his chest, snuggling against him. 

“This is nice,” she murmured, already fading into sleep. Her hand drifted up to rest where his neck and shoulder met while her head rested comfortably on his other shoulder, nose gently butting against his jaw. Just before she lost herself to a blissfully quiet rest, she felt his hand run along her side and squeeze and let out a content sigh. 

Cullen laid there, one armed wrapped around her as best he could. He let his hand stroke her side, gently squeezing every so often to assure her of his presence. His free hand started out behind his head, but soon moved to trace soft lines along her arm. He listened to her breathing, listening to the soft huffs of sleep finally win out over whimpers of nightmares. He could feel her pulse against his chest and sighed, finally drifting off to sleep as well. She was right; this was … nice.

She woke slowly, wanting to avoid the morning’s chill by staying wrapped in warm blankets. Eyes still shut against the sun, she snuggled deeper into the bed only to realize that there was a muscular arm wrapped around her and something that was decidedly not blankets pressed against her back. Her eyes flew open and she was about to leap from the bed when the previous evening’s events came back to her. She was in Cullen’s bed, wrapped in his arms, and still dressed – she couldn’t decide if that last one was a good or bad thing. Regan smiled, struggled to roll over without disturbing the still sleeping man behind her. How people managed to actually toss around in their sleep and not disturb their partner, she’d never know. 

He groaned softly, arm tightening around her to stop her movement. He squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to admit to himself that he was waking up. For once, he was comfortable … happy. It had been the best night’s sleep he’d had in a long while and he didn’t want it to end. He felt her snuggle closer - a leg slipping between his, an arm wrapping around his waist … her nose buried against his throat. Oh, Maker, was he dreaming? He had to be dreaming, right? If it was, he didn’t want to wake up. 

The pair remained curled against each other for as long as they could, but eventually duty reared its ugly head. Well, in reality, the call of nature reared its ugly head first. After taking care of the necessities, Regan sat on the edge of the bed and watched him sleep, wondering if she should just make her way back to her chambers while he slumbered. It was going to cause a stir … her exiting the commander’s chambers this early in just her sleepwear, without shoes. There wasn’t much that she could do to avoid that, and staying later would mean there were more chances for runners and soldiers to see her. But … she didn’t particularly want to leave without at least saying thank you. 

He rolled toward her, eyes still closed … reaching, grasping for her warmth. “Stay with me,” he murmured, hand resting on her leg. “S’not time to get up yet.” He cracked open one eye, doing his best to look like he was still asleep and peeked up at her. He took in her wrinkled shirt, finding the idea of her in rumpled clothes more attractive than he’d realized was possible. He could see her lips curled into a content smile, her eyes half-closed as if she was still tired. Her short auburn hair was sticking up all over, not helped in the slightest when she ran her fingers through. He wanted to be the one stroking fingers through that hair. 

“I’d love to,” she whispered, reaching out to brush her fingers through his oddly curly hair. It certainly never looked like that during the day. Even when he was drenched with sweat from … training, only a few tendrils ever seemed to curl around his temples. But this … this was his entire head of hair! “But I’m supposed to ride out this morning, remember? And I still have to figure out how to get back to my room and dress without causing too many rumors to start flying.” She laughed as he reached out, pulled her against him; whimpered softly as his lips ghosted over her throat. “And you,” she gasped between whimpers, “don’t you have … some … mmmmm … some drills to run? And fix your hair?” 

“Fix my hair?” he repeated, now actively trying to wake up. For once, he wanted to ignore his duties, forget he had men to train and reports to review and … well, everything. But what was that about his …. “Andraste’s ass!” He’d forgotten about the sad state of his hair every morning. How in the Maker’s name had he forgotten that? Embarrassed, he released his hold on her, easing her onto the bed so he could sit up … dart for the mirror and cover his face with his hands. “You weren’t supposed to see … I mean, I didn’t want … blast it all.” 

“What’s the matter, Cullen?” Regan pushed herself off the bed to join him, hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s not any worse than the nightmare of a mop I have right now.” She caught a glimpse of her reflection and groaned, dreading the thought of making her way across the battlements and through the main hall in her current state. Pushing that thought away, she leaned down, brushed gentle kisses along the back of his neck. “I kinda like it, actually.” Her fingers slipped into the hair at the back of his head, nails lightly tickling along his scalp. 

“Yes, well ….” He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to lean into her touch. She actually liked the unruly mass that had earned Varric’s nickname? Surely not; she was just trying to make him feel better, right? A soft growl escaped when he felt teeth lightly graze his skin. What was he saying again? “I would … rather the men … not see it.” He could feel her fingers ghosting across his chest now, her body pressing against his back. “I … learned long ago that … that this is not a … um ….” Maker’s mercy, she made it hard to think sometimes. “It’s not something that … lends itself to … commanding respect.”

“I see.” With a warm smile, she finally backed away to sit on the edge of his bed. She watched as he wet his hair and proceeded to do … something to slick it back, get the curls under control. She was impressed by the precision with which he worked, though she probably shouldn’t have been. He was the same way when it came to training, and most other aspects of his life. “So I take it you were teased because of it?”

“It became somewhat of a running joke throughout training,” he admitted while running a comb through one final time. “And that carried over to the circles I was stationed.” He shrugged faintly, watching her, wondering just what he’d done to deserve her in his life. “When I joined the Inquisition, I decided it was … finally time to do something about it.” It didn’t hurt that one of Hawke’s friends had pointed him at the tonic and wax he now used not long before the explosion in Kirkwall.

She grinned, pinning her bottom lip beneath her teeth again – once an occasional nervous habit that had become far more prominent the more time she spent with him. “You do realize that all I want to do now is run my fingers through and mess it up, right?” Oh, she wouldn’t … not until they were alone. But she could imagine the look on his face if she did. When he glared at her, she couldn’t help but laugh before reassuring him that she did have the willpower to resist the urge. “But, now … how am I going to get back to my room to change? I want to get this Cole thing taken care of as soon as possible, for his sake at least.”

“Well, do you have any runners you trust to keep quiet?”

She nodded, wondering just what he had in mind. “Margot is the picture of silence when it comes to secrets.” She was honestly surprised how well she and her personal runner got along. Leliana had never given an explanation of how she’d chosen Margot, but the young woman had been a valuable asset from day one.

“Very good; wait here.” Cullen made his way down the ladder, fully aware that a curious Regan was peering over the edge of the loft watching him. He scribbled a quick note on a piece of parchment, sealed it and smiled up at her. “I will be right back. Don’t worry.” Then, he disappeared out one of the doors, leaving Regan to wonder just what he was doing.

He returned quickly – barely a minute had passed since he had left. With a smug smile, he motioned for her to come down. When she did, he was surprised to find that she had used the short break to smooth out her own mop of hair, though it seems the most she’d done was wet it down before combing through it. “Margot should be bringing your armor … and boots, along momentarily. She is aware that no questions are to be answered.” He reached out, pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. “Now, what is this you’re doing for Cole?”

“You remember him coming to you … to find where something felt wrong?” She resisted the urge to run her fingers through his hair, settling for resting her forearms on his shoulders instead. When he nodded, pulling her just a little closer, she smiled. “We’re heading to Redcliff to take care of … whatever it is.” Regan shrugged faintly, trying her best to ignore the light, teasing touches that slipped under her shirt and along her spine. “Cole insisted on Solas and Varric coming along, so it’ll be … an interesting trip.” She wasn’t overly thrilled with the idea of riding to Redcliff with this particular group. Varric was fine – she got along well with him. Cole was … usually fine – he was getting better, less … unsettling the more time she spent with him. And she could even remain civil with Solas, when it was just the two of them talking. But when it came to Cole … and spirits in general, the elf seemed to be unwilling to believe anyone else might know more … or even have a chance at being correct. She could only imagine that the ride to Redcliff would be full of arguments between Solas and Varric about Cole’s welfare.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He couldn’t decide if he wanted her to say yes or no. He relished the idea of being able to spend more time with her, but it wouldn’t be time alone. Plus, there were drills he needed to run with the men. He couldn’t keep putting them off, as much as he might want to.

“I would love it if you did,” she answered, running a finger along the edge of his ear. “But I think we’ll be ok. Cole was kind of … particular about who was with him.” She leaned in to brush a quick kiss against his almost pouting lips. “Besides, I think Josephine and Leliana need you for a fitting. We should be heading to Halamshiral soon; probably as soon as I get back from Redcliff, and we need whatever the heck it is we’re wearing to be finished before then.”

Cullen groaned, shaking his head. He knew it was coming, but Maker, how he hated having the tailors poke and prod at him. “If you’re sure; I’d feel safer if -.” Anything further was cut off by a knock followed by a familiar voice at the door - Margot had arrived with her clothing. He watched in amused silence as the two women exchanged a few words, wondering just what made the runner’s cheeks suddenly go pink. When the door was finally shut, he expected Regan to climb back into his loft to change. Instead, she simply started removing clothing in front of him. Flustered, not sure if he should see the Inquisitor in such a state, never mind that he wanted to, he tried to look anywhere but in front of him. It didn’t really work. Every direction he tried looking, he found his eyes drawn back to her.

She had her back to him, thinking that would give her enough privacy to get out of her sleepwear and into her armor. Plus, she was in a hurry. According to Margot, the others were already saddled and ready. She had told them Regan was going over some last minute troop reports with the Commander and would be along presently. She quickly removed her sleepwear and pulled on various bits of underthings and armor, starting with the legs and working her way up, before finally pulling her boots and turning toward Cullen, buckling the last of her straps. “We’ll be back soon.”

He swallowed a couple times before trusting himself to speak. He could only imagine what was going through her head … why she’d chosen to forgo any sense of propriety … of modesty. He felt his insides knot, his heart race as he reached for her. “You can’t leave just yet,” he murmured once he managed to pull her close. Nose buried in her hair, he brushed his lips along her ear, before moving down to her jaw and around to her lips. “Can’t let you go without … incentive to return quickly, right?” He chuckled softly as he felt her lips curl into a grin, soon parting to let his tongue slip through. He felt rather than heard her moan and, not for the first time, wished they didn’t have other responsibilities.

“You’re making this really hard,” she groaned as a slight shift in positions pressed something else hard against her thigh. Eyes widening, she bit down on her lower lip, hard and took a deep breath. “Cullen,” she whispered, eyes locking on his. “I have to …. We can’t …. I want -.”

“Inquisitor, we need to be leaving now if we are going to make the trip in an adequate amount of time.” Solas’ voice brought the moment to a screeching halt. It was one thing to know they were down at the stables waiting for her; it was another entirely to know one of them was just outside the door and could barge in at any minute. “Cole is eager to see this done.”

Biting back an annoyed reply, Regan gave Cullen one last, quick, kiss. “You are an evil, evil man,” she laughed. “But yes, that does give me some … incentive … to return quickly.” She slipped from his grasp, making a determined effort not to look at what had been pinned against her. Cole needed her. Yes, that was it. Cole needed her. “I’ll miss you, Commander. Don’t work too hard while I’m gone.” She pulled the door open, greeted Solas as politely as possible, all things considered, and crossed the battlements to the stairs, all the while hearing Cullen’s soft laugh and feeling his eyes watching her.


End file.
